He didn’t seem to recognize her when she called.
“It’s Michelle,” she said. “From Los Angeles.”
“Hey.” He sounded surprised. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased. “You back in L.A.?”
She laughed a little. “No. I missed my flight.”
She made the call from the bedroom, pacing out onto the balcony from pent-up nerves.
“Oh, yeah? What happened? You get caught in cruise-ship traffic or something?”
“It’s … it’s complicated.” She stood on the balcony staring into the courtyard, looking down at the guests sitting in their loungechairs, drinking margaritas, reading paperbacks.
This is a bad idea, she thought.
“I’m here for a couple more days,” she said. “I was wondering if that dinner invitation was still open.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. The calico cat stirred from its position between the terra-cotta pots, stretched, and padded over to sniff at her ankle.
Maybe he’d turn her down. If he did, then what? She’d tell Gary she tried? Would that be enough?
Yes or no. She wasn’t sure which option was worse.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is. You free tonight?”
[CHAPTER TEN]
“It’s a great place,” Daniel told her. “The view’s amazing, and the chef’s from California.”
“Sounds wonderful,” Michelle said. She hoped she sounded enthusiastic.
Daniel picked her up at Hacienda Carmen in a black Jeep, a tricked-out Wrangler with the slogan RUBICON painted above the front fender. Great, Michelle thought.
“Something funny?”
She must have smiled. She was going to have to watch herself. “No, I … This looks like a nice Jeep.”
“Yeah, it’s really good for around here.”
He wore a white shirt and khaki pants, and she had to admit he looked good, with his tan and a shadow of beard. The bandage on his forehead was actually kind of rakish.
This is not your beach book, she reminded herself.
“How’s your head?” she asked.
“It’s okay. No big deal. I’ll get the stitches out in a few days.”
“Have you heard anything? Did they catch the guys, or …?”
“No,” he said shortly. “They probably won’t. The police here …” He shrugged. “Some of them try.”
They drove most of the way in silence, across the river, toward downtown and the cathedral.
What am I supposed to do? she thought. Spend some time with him—and do what?
“So what happened with your flight?” he finally asked.
“My taxi hit a cop car.”
Daniel winced. “Oh, man. Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Jesus, did somebody put a curse on you or something?”
He was smiling, acting like it was a joke, but she couldn’t tell if he believed her.
“Maybe.” She smiled back. “But the pig’s head? That one’s on you.”
“Hah.” He focused on the road. “Yeah. I just need to find out who cursed me.” He glanced at her, smiling again, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses. “Maybe we’ll figure it out over drinks.”
Daniel was right. The view from the restaurant was amazing. The two of them sat at a table by the railing of a large balcony, sipping a decent Mexican chardonnay and watching the sun sink behind the cathedral tower.
“There’s the pirate ship,” Daniel said, pointing.
It looked like a pirate ship, Michelle thought, a Disneyland reproduction of one anyway, a Spanish galleon that ferried tourists around the bay.
“Cannon’ll start going off in about a half an hour,” Daniel said. “Then there’s fireworks. I went on one of those pirate cruises once.” He poured them both more wine, not waiting for the server. “They make the women help raise the sails, but they’ll give you a massage first. Then you sit around and learn about Mexican culture. And you can drink as much as you want.”
“Sounds like fun,” Michelle said, though in fact she did not think that it did.
Daniel shrugged. “It’s okay. Except after the big battle, the pirates all sing ‘We Are the World.’ ” He grinned. “Man, I hate that song.”
“Especially sung by pirates.”
“How about this?”
He meant the restaurant. It was a nice place, built around a series of terraces, simply but elegantly decorated. The menu reminded her more of Wolfgang Puck than Mexican; the service was attentive and professional.
“I like it,” she said, which was the truth.
Daniel ordered another bottle of wine for the meal, a red this time, also from Baja. Surprisingly good. Who knew they made good wine in Baja?
Their main courses had just arrived when Daniel leaned back in his chair and stared at her, smiling slightly, sizing her up, the way he had when they’d first met.
“So the thing with the cop … Did they want you to testify in court or anything like that?”
She flinched, thinking of the policeman who’d arrested her, of sitting in the back of the squad car with her hands cuffed, the pressure on her wrists, the smell of sour beer and vomit.
That wasn’t what Daniel had meant, was it? He was asking about the lie she’d told him.
“I hope not,” she said. “Basically we all went to the jail, and I told them what happened. They wanted my name and my number and contact information, and I gave it to them. I didn’t really understand what was going on half the time, to be honest.”
“Man, if I were you, I would’ve thought about getting out of town.” He was watching her carefully over the brim of his wineglass. “You don’t want to get tangled up with the police here. There’s a lot of corruption.”
“Oh. I didn’t even think about that. I thought … well, I wasn’t driving, so it wasn’t really my problem.”
She looked at him. Met his eyes. Pretend you mean it, she told herself. “Should I worry?”
“Probably not,” he said, giving her that sidelong grin. “Sometimes I’m a little paranoid. But you don’t always know who they’re working for.”
She hesitated. “You mean they work for the narcos?”
She stumbled on the word.
Maybe he hadn’t noticed.
“Sometimes,” he said, almost casually. “Police don’t get paid too well, for one thing. And sometimes they don’t have much choice about it. Plata o plomo,” he pronounced.
“What does that mean?”
“Silver or lead. Get on the payroll or die.”
He poured her some wine, letting the wine splash against the side of her glass, deliberately casual, like he was a little drunk.
“How long were you thinking about staying?” he asked.
She managed a chuckle. “After what you said, I’m really not sure.”
“The last time I saw you, you seemed like you were in a hurry to get back.”
“I was.” She toyed with her epazote-marinated shrimp. How to answer him? “I have a lot to deal with. My husband, when he died … he left me with some loose ends. None of them very pleasant. When I missed the plane, I just …” She put on a small smile. A properly tremulous one, she hoped. “Decided I’d rather stay on vacation a little longer.”
“Yeah, I can see how that makes sense.”
The way he said it, his voice flat, she could tell that he didn’t trust her. Why would he? The explanation sounded ridiculous to her own ears.
Fine, she thought. He doesn’t trust me, we get the check, I go back to Hacienda Carmen, and tomorrow I tell Gary the whole thing was a bust.
And then what would Gary do?
I can’t go back to that jail, she thought. I can’t.
It was easy to let her eyes fill up with tears. It was hardly even acting.
“Tom was in finance,” she said. “Real estate. He made some questionable deals. A lot of them, actually. I didn’t know. I guess I should have paid more attention, but it was Tom’s business. I thought it
was okay. Or if it wasn’t, he’d tell me. But he didn’t. Then, when he died …”
“You were sandbagged,” Daniel said, watching her.
“Well, it was unexpected. Not like cancer, he just … It was his car. Totaled. They think he had a heart attack. He hadn’t planned for it. I’m sure he didn’t think that he’d …”
Hardly acting at all.
“It wasn’t his fault,” she managed.
Even though she knew that it was.
“I should have paid more attention,” she repeated. Because that was true as well.
Daniel shook his head. “Man …” Then he did something unexpected—he reached out his hand and rested it on hers. His hand felt warm. Strong.
“You’ve had a really rough time. It sucks you’ve had to go through all that on your own.”
“I have friends. People have helped. It’s just …” She had to stop for a moment. “Anyway, it is what it is. I just figured it could all wait a little longer.”
His thumb gently rubbed the back of her hand. “Sounds like a good plan.”
When they got back to Hacienda Carmen, Daniel parked the Jeep outside the gate, climbed down from the driver’s seat, and opened the door for her.
“Thanks for the dinner,” she said. “I really enjoyed it.”
“Thanks for giving me another chance. I didn’t think you would.”
She laughed. “Well, I could say the same thing. I haven’t been a lot of fun to be around.”
He grinned. “I bet you’re a lot of fun.”
They paused for a moment in the shadow of the wrought-iron gate. He leaned down and kissed her.
She kissed him back, tasting the tang of wine on his tongue, the slight saltiness of his lips. He responded, circling his arms around her, bringing her to him, and she could feel herself wanting to let go, wanting to lose herself in him.
You can’t, she thought. It isn’t safe.
“So what do you think?” he asked, his breath warm against her ear.
It was what Gary wanted her to do, wasn’t it? Spend some time with him—this was really what he had in mind.
“Look, no pressure,” Daniel said. “I know things got off to a really bad start, and if you, you know …” He shrugged a little. “Whatever you want to do.”
Here was her out. She could say good-bye to him now, and that would be the end of it. There wouldn’t be another date. You couldn’t go backward, in her experience. It never worked.
What would happen if she ended it here?
She felt his body against hers, the stubble of his beard brush her cheek, the scent of him that filled her intake of breath.
She thought about the jail. The airless heat, the hard cement, the reeking toilet.
Silver or lead?
“Do you want to come up?” she asked. “Just for a while?”
It wasn’t really dangerous, she told herself. He couldn’t actually hurt her, not here, in her own hotel. People would see him. People would know.
“Yeah,” he said. “That sounds good.”
The lights were off in the little office behind the counter, the courtyard was deserted. There has to be someone up, she thought. It’s only … What time was it?
A sudden blur of movement at her feet—the cat, racing up the stairs that led to her room.
“Cute place,” he said in a low voice.
“Yes.” Her voice caught. “It’s … it’s quiet, mostly.”
I shouldn’t have said that, she thought. He’ll think we’re alone here. That he can do what he wants and no one will know.
“There’s usually people in the courtyard. It’s not the most private. You can hear people in the next room.”
“I’ll be vewwwwy quiet,” he said with a grin.
They climbed up the stairs. The cat waited there, on the low wall. Arched its back and then stretched down like it was doing yoga. Downward-Facing Cat.
“Hey, cat,” Daniel said, holding out his hand for it to sniff.
Her hand shook as she fumbled for the key.
It was hot inside.
She turned on the fans, the air conditioner that didn’t exactly work. “There’s wine in the fridge,” she said. “A white. Do you want some? Or …?”
He crossed the room in a few steps, put his hands on her shoulders, and pressed up against her back. She flinched.
“Hey,” he said, stepping away. His hands guided her, gently, to face him. “Are you okay?”
“I …” She swallowed hard. “Yeah. I’m just …”
“Look.” He stood there, hands at his sides. “We don’t have to do this.”
Was that true? Did she still have a choice?
She’d thought she’d already crossed that line.
She had to get a hold of herself, right now. Take control. Or … or what?
She didn’t know.
Fake it, she thought. You know how to do that.
“Sorry,” she said. “I just had, you know …” She touched her forehead and tried to smile. “I thought about that night we met, and those guys, and …” She shuddered. “It’s stupid.”
He stared at her, his eyes narrowed, and then he seemed to relax. She could see the change in his face.
“It’s not stupid. That was pretty messed up.”
He went over to the fridge and retrieved the bottle of wine. “So how do we open this?”
“There’s a corkscrew by the sink. In the drawer.”
“Sit,” he said.
She did, on the side of the bed, her legs trembling.
He came back with a couple of tumblers and the open bottle, and sat down next to her.
“Not like I need any more wine,” he said, pouring them each a glass.
“Me neither.” She clutched the tumbler he gave her and smiled shakily.
He lifted up his glass, and after a moment she raised hers.
“What are we toasting?” she asked.
“I don’t know.” He gave her that half a grin, the one where she wasn’t sure what he was really thinking, that crinkled the crow’s-feet around his blue eyes and sharpened the lines of his cheekbones. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Her move, then.
“I’m not good at toasts.” You can do this, she told herself. She clinked her glass against his, took a swallow, and then put her tumbler down on the nightstand, her mouth dry, her heart pounding.
He took a sip of his wine and watched her.
She leaned in, her lips grazing his. Softly. A taste. He held back, still holding his glass, still watching her. Looking for something, some sign of her real intentions, maybe.
Fuck it, she thought. So show him. Pretend you mean it.
He let her kiss him. Let her straddle him. Her heart was still racing, but that could be from desire, couldn’t it? That’s what he’d think, probably. She wasn’t sure herself by now.
“Guess I’d better put this down,” he said, stretching out his arm, setting the tumbler on the nightstand. He slid his other hand up her thigh.
It wasn’t so hard to pretend.
[CHAPTER ELEVEN]
Daniel slept for a while. She lay there listening to his deep, even breaths. At least he didn’t snore.
Not that she’d been able to sleep.
Though it really had been okay. If she’d been able to forget the circumstances, it might even have been fun. She’d almost forgotten, once or twice.
Even so, she wasn’t about to fall asleep with him in her bed.
I just need to find out who cursed me.
She lay there—muscles knotting in her shoulders, acid in her gut like a weight—and watched him sleep.
Shortly after dawn Daniel yawned, stretched, and sat up.
The rooster that had started up around 3:00 A.M. began another round of crowing. And was that a donkey?
“Hey,” Daniel said. He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“Hey.”
“I should go. Got some stuff I got to do today.”
She watched him fin
d his clothes, put them on, check his pockets for his keys, like it was all some jerky, stop-motion movie, her eyes closing now and then despite her best intentions to stay awake.
He came back to the bed and kissed her again, on the lips this time.
“I’ll call you,” he said.
“I’d like that.”
She smiled at him, lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers as he paused by the door and gave her a mock salute.
Maybe he didn’t mean it any more than she did—maybe it was just something to say after a one-night stand that he had no intention of repeating. Well, two nights, she amended, but the first night had hardly counted. This was just finishing what they’d started.
She managed to sleep for a little while after that, until her phone rang. The default tone for known callers. She fumbled around on the nightstand for the phone. By the time she found it, the ringing had stopped.
Two minutes later it started again.
She grabbed the iPhone and hit ANSWER.
“Hey, Michelle. Ted Banks.” A chuckle. “You have a nice night?”
She stared at the phone. How could he know?
“You know, Ted, if you were really in Los Angeles, it’d be six A.M. Kind of early for office hours.”
Gary wheezed out another chuckle. “Oh, I knew you were good, Michelle. Look, let’s meet for lunch. I got a little something for you. And we can talk about your date. Call me when you wake up, and I’ll let you know where.”
He disconnected.
Did he still have people spying on her? Was that how he knew?
She thought about that night in his condo, how he’d known the next morning that she’d put a chair in front of the door.
Some kind of hidden camera? A bug?
What if he’d been watching?
She bolted out of bed.
She tried to remember movies and TV shows she’d seen where rooms had been bugged. Radios, she thought, they put bugs in radios, but there wasn’t a radio here. In the television? She crouched down in front of the blank gray picture tube and saw only her dim reflection. She unplugged the television anyway. Jiggled the remote, opened it, plucked out the double-A batteries.
In the overhead light? She climbed up on top of her bed. Stretched out her arm to try to touch the dusty fixture. No use.
Electrical outlets, she thought. She’d seen some show where they planted bugs behind the switch plates.
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